"Bless you again, and again," added Barbara, who came into the room at that moment, and emphasized her blessing with a kiss on Mrs. Stout's red, fat cheek. As they were going down the steps, Will turned and called, "Good-bye."
"Good-bye," came a yell from three lusty young throats.
"Good-bye, boys," laughed Will, with a wave of his hand to the three youngsters, who had stolen unawares into the hall behind their mother.
"You scamps!" exclaimed Mrs. Stout, as she shut the door, and "shooed" them back up-stairs.
For a moment Barbara and Will were silent.
It was a beautifully still night, the air was clear and cold—just such a night as the one on which the sleigh-ride accident had occurred, but so much had happened since then that neither thought of it.
"When are you going home, Barbara?" Will asked, suddenly.
"Very soon, in a day or two, probably."
"And when—when shall we be—" Will hesitated. "Married" is a difficult word to speak sometimes, but it came after a moment, and manfully.